


every night is a beginning (open your eyes)

by TheCoasts



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCoasts/pseuds/TheCoasts
Summary: The universe is vast but somehow, they almost inevitably find their way back to each other, as intended. Adora always starts fresh, anew.Catra doesn’t get to forget.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 200





	every night is a beginning (open your eyes)

She can never quite explain it. Sometimes, she finds Adora. Some others, Adora’s the one that sees her first. The universe is vast but somehow, they almost inevitably find their way back to each other, as intended. Adora always starts fresh, anew.

Catra doesn’t get to forget.

She remembers all of their lives, their confessions, even the way Adora knows exactly where to brush her fingers to wake Catra from a nightmare she can’t escape —the feeling of soft skin against the ever-so sensitive spot near her jaw, where lies a small scar that lost its origin to time.

Catra had asked her once, how she somehow knew it was there. Adora had just smiled, “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know?” It wasn’t a lie. How could she tell Catra every inch of her is like a place she’s already seen even when she barely knew her name? _I’ve already been here, seen you up close, held you tight_ , she thinks.

Catra had shrugged and pulled her into her embrace. “You’re an idiot.”

The word rings in Adora’s ears when she sees Catra the next time they meet. The voice that speaks it is disembodied, unrecognizable.

Her hand goes to wipe away the tear that fell, and she shrugs it off.

* * *

One time, everything is too frantic, too scattered for them to find each other. Adora clutches her chest, an unfamiliar sensation eating away at her. Like an unknown variable is missing, and she stares up at the ceiling of her bedroom. She almost calls out in the silence, asking for a clue, any sort of closure. Sleep finds her instead, and she dreams of a woman with eyes that pierce her soul, hands that trace words on her skin like they’re following a roadmap. _Who are you?_ she whispers in her sleep. The woman parts her lips but she gets no answer.

When Catra wakes up the following morning, she can’t shake the tingling sensation in her fingertips. It’s all too familiar —she curses at the void.

* * *

  
She tells her, every time. She gets the same reaction when she does. It’s something she loves about Adora, how predictable she can be. It’s relaxing almost; Catra is anything but.

“I promise I’ll remember next time.” Adora tells her one night. It’s late and Catra is already half-asleep but she hears Adora’s voice and feels her breath tickling her ears.

 _You won’t_ , she thinks. “Just promise me you’ll try. That’s enough for me.”

Fortunately, Adora seems to understand. She’s too good, too honest. Too bad a liar. “I promise.”

And Catra almost believes it.

* * *

She tries to remember, the moment where it all changed. Where a normal existence became a constant fight to remain who she’s always known herself to be. She still recalls the day after it happened, when she thought of herself as dead and gone; only to wake up in a bed that wasn’t hers, in a body that didn’t feel like hers, with memories that weren’t supposed to belong there.

It had been a struggle at first.

“I loved her,” she had told no one, looking at the night sky as if the answers she’d been looking for could possibly be etched among the stars. “I loved her all kinds of wrong but she loved me so right.” All she remembers from her last day was Adora’s hand in her own as they laid upon the dried grass, not far from a village that used to remind her of home.

Had she been the only one to be given a second chance? She almost implored whoever was responsible for her new fate and tried to tell them that Adora deserved it too; Adora, who always saw the good in everything. Adora, who was missing from her right now. She almost pleaded with them but she stopped herself. Surely, if someone had deemed worthy to bring her back, then Adora most certainly was walking the same ground as she was.

* * *

This time around, it’s not as easy as usual. The pang in her heart guides Catra directly to her, but it’s where it gets complicated. Adora doesn’t recognize her, as always, but she knows her. Knows her reputation and the things people have whispered about her. Catra is used to it by now; she’s still startled to discover that in this lifetime, Adora hates her.

In all fairness, she hadn’t made the right decisions from the start, and now Adora refuses to see her, and Catra understands. She always does.

She walks away, wishing she could forget it too.

* * *

“I have a hundred lifetimes in my mind, Adora.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m starting to wonder, you know. Whether it’s a blessing or a curse. Sometimes, I feel like seeing you is only making me miss you even more.”

“Catra—”

Catra stops her with a kiss. “It’s alright,” she smiles, her heart tugging at her core. “It’s always worth it.”

Adora pulls her close, hums the song she’s heard Catra sing before.

“I like to think I’m always secretly hopeful you’ll find me.” Catra doesn’t deal in absolutes, she knows. “I’m sorry I can’t remember.”

Adora kisses the top of her head.

* * *

Their next life is kinder to both of them. Catra has her family, people she cares about and can rely upon for just about anything; it’s nice, it’s a change of pace and she’s happy.

And she opens her door to find Adora on the other side. They get to grow up together, side by side, uncaring. Adora notices how Catra watches her, it’s hard not to —she has the same hopeful gleam in her own eyes. The years pass and they grow older.

Catra knows it’s going to hurt, but love pulls towards them both and neither can resist it. It’s easy and she loses herself into it, throws caution to the wind and keeps the curses for later —someday she’ll scream, ram into the issue, bring it to its knees. Ask for a rewrite.

Today it’s where she finds solace, her hands in Adora’s and the scene so eerie she almost anticipates the words she’s about to hear.

“I’ll always remember this,” Adora says. It doesn’t sound final, it’s almost hopeful, and Catra allows herself to open her heart to the statement.

The next time she awakens, Adora doesn’t even realize she’s forgotten something.

* * *

They’re flashes but somehow, she tastes the dirt and the blood in her mouth. She sees grass, shades of pale green, like nature itself had regrets. There’s blonde hair and blue eyes staring up at the sky, angry red —it smells of copper, it speaks of lost opportunities. Catra sees herself lying down next to the blurred-out figure, hands no longer searching for an anchor. They’re firmly clasped with the other person’s own.

She finally sees it.

She falls to her knees, grips at her own head, lets a lost _Adora_ brush past her lips. It fades into the air, and the flashes get closer, faster.

She remembers now, gasps as her mind lets her in on the promises they’d both made when faced with what would become their last stand.

She thinks of the chances she’s gotten, way past the second and the third and the fourth; a multitude of lives she’s breathed through and found Adora and loved her and lost her all over again. Someday, she’ll be asked if it was worth it, and she’ll only have one answer to ever give, “ _For her, always.”_

* * *

“You’ve taken my heart,” Adora whispers in her ear.

 _It’s only fair_ , Catra wants to tell her. _I get your heart, when you’ve taken my soul_ , instead she shakes her head and says, “I always knew I had it.” She doesn’t lie to Adora, she never could.

There used to be a time where she deeply thought it would get easier, the way she misses Adora. She’s here now and Catra could probably draw her from memory even before they meet. She could fill the pages of a thousand books with their stories.

Adora laughs, “How could I ever forget about this?”

Sometimes, rebirth is lonely.

When she somehow feels Adora’s eyes on her again, reborn anew once more, Catra bites back a bitter laugh.

She replies to no one, “Easily so.”

* * *

“I wish to see you again.”

Adora murmurs, “We will, Catra.”

Catra cups her face between her hands, thumbs wiping away the tears that manage to break through Adora’s resolve. “I trust you.” She rests her forehead against Adora’s, tries to tune out the noises all around them.

She knows when she breaks away, reality will jump at them again. It will be a battle, and there will be loss, and there will be sacrifice; in-between them lies their destinies.

Adora pulls out her sword, glancing at Catra like it’s the last time she’s able to take her all in —and maybe it is, maybe she knows something no one else does. “If there was only one person to remember me, once this is all over. I would want it to be you.”

Catra sneaks one last kiss to her jaw. “I only ever want to be loved by you.” Her gaze turns to the dust rising in the distance. “No one else, for all eternity.”

Above them are the stars, ever so attentively observing.

* * *

Adora knows she’s lucky, for Catra knows everything there is to be known about her —but Adora gets to rediscover her each time. “It’s like rediscovering a painting,” she tries to explain one night. “You see it, and maybe you’ve seen it before. But there’s that one time where you find yourself glancing at this painting, and it somehow feels like it’s the first time you’ve ever looked at it.” _It’s how I feel about you, take these words, smear them across the canvas. They’ll always paint my love in bold strokes and careful lines._ Catra kisses her.

“They can’t take this away from us,” they’re both crying; the stars above have disappeared long ago now, their existence almost forgotten. She wonders when time is going to take Adora away —the last star in a doomed universe in her eyes.

It turns out, Catra remarks later when Adora is gone, they absolutely _could_ take this away.

And that’s when she breaks; she tears at the sheets, claws at the walls. Asking for a respite that will never come.

“Please,” she begs. Her voice is lost in the darkness that surrounds the bed. _I don’t want it anymore, take it back,_ but no answer comes to her. _Let her be mine, fully._ For she is Adora’s only once Adora lays her eyes upon her, and Catra knows a long time ago she thought it to be fair —not anymore. It’s always been the deal; her and Adora, lives intertwined, love new but familiar. But there’s a downside to the good things, a curse to every blessing.

Catra knows she used to find it easy, the anticipation of knowing Adora triumphing over the pain of losing her. Now she’s grown older in her soul and weary; she’s not so sure anymore.

"Fix it," she asks one last time.

* * *

Her life changes abruptly, although she can’t tell. She’s young and running past older cadets, laughter echoing off the green-lit walls of the corridors she feels as though she’s known her entire life.

Adora shouts after her, “You’re cheating!”

Catra jumps atop a crate, waiting for Adora to catch up. “I’m just faster!” She giggles when Adora finally rounds the corner.

She’s both younger and older at the same time; so is Adora. But the heartache she feels finds no hold —why does she feel a gaping hole in her chest, as if missing something? She has everything —Adora, and the long days ahead of them, like a welcoming embrace of the unknown surrounding the both of them.

She glances to Adora and a _thank you_ almost escapes her lips, and there’s an almost _you’re welcome_ in the air. It floats around her and she narrows her eyes, painfully realizing she’s still forgetting something; until Adora takes her hand. “Come on, Catra!”

She’s quick to ignore the feeling, and how familiar Adora is —not just from the years they’ve known each other now, more than that somehow. She shakes her head and squeezes Adora’s hand back.

“I’ve heard we’re getting the gray kind tonight!”

She perks up at her words and lets Adora lead her down the hallway.

They’re young and they’re older, and for the first time since it all began, like a clean slate gifted to her, Catra gets to forget too.


End file.
